


Eren and the Quest for the Perfect Confession

by RamblingMegome



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 14 Days of Eremin, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships include: Reiner/Bertolt; Ymir/Krista(Historia); Sasha/Connie, Crush-related vulnerability and doubt, Day 8 Prompt: Crush, Eremin - Freeform, Eren and Armin are super in love, Eren thinks too much for once, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Jean's crush on Mikasa also mentioned, Kissing, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Non-explicit allusions to masturbation/sex, Terrible Advice, This is really dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamblingMegome/pseuds/RamblingMegome
Summary: With a little help, Eren finally realizes the full extent of his feelings for Armin. Now what? He goes to his friends for advice on how best to express himself. Most of them aren't very helpful.AKA, Eren spends a week agonizing over something that everybody else knows is blatantly obvious. It's a bit like watching someone struggling to solve a two-piece puzzle.Written for the 14 Days of Eremin, Day 8 prompt: Crush.





	1. Tuesday

_"Huh?"_

Jean met Eren's blank stare with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "A  _crush,_ genius. You may have heard of it. Y'know, that thing that makes your brain turn to mush when you think of someone."

"Yeah, like the big gross one you have on my sister. I know what a crush is, asshole." Eren scowled back at him from his spot nestled into Jean's beanbag, game controller forgotten in his hands. From the TV came the sound of Roy getting blasted offscreen and exploding somewhere in the distance. He swore and hit the pause button so he could focus on the matter at hand. "What the hell makes you think I have one on Armin?"

Jean snorted disdainfully. "Oh, please, don't try to cover it up. It's not like everybody doesn't already know. You're the furthest thing from subtle, Jaeger." He turned back to the game as if that settled the matter, but after a moment of staring at the pause screen he looked down from his perch on his bed, meeting Eren's baffled stare.

He blinked. He blinked again. "Wait... Eren. Don't tell me you're not aware of this."

"Of course I'm aware of how I feel about my own best friend. He's my best friend," Eren bit back irritably, feeling a wave of queasiness as he sensed the conversation start to turn into dangerous waters.

Jean gave him a long look of disbelief, then set his controller carefully to the side. He turned to face Eren more fully, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and pity.

"Okay, so," he began sagely, with an air that made Eren want to punch him in the face. "You and Armin. You're all over each other. Holding hands, prolonged eye contact, sitting way closer than necessary – I swear, you're practically in each other's laps half the time." He counted off on his fingers as he spoke.

"But we've always been that way," Eren began to protest, but Jean glared down at him.

“Hey, I'm not finished, so shut up. You're actually _nice_ to him, which is a shocker all in itself, and speaking of, you smile at him way more than I've ever seen you smile at everybody else combined. And he's the only one who can ever get you to do shit without having to twist your arm.”

“So what?” Eren retorted aggressively, though something was beginning to wind tight somewhere behind his ribcage. “Like I said, he's my best friend. And he's not an asshole like you, of course I smile at him more. I don't see how that proves anything.”

“Okay, fine.” Jean rolled his eyes. “Ignoring that comment for now. So how _would_ you describe him, then?”

Eren huffed, but he considered the question. How would he describe Armin? Armin, that fixture in his life with his soft golden hair that fell over his eyes, brilliant blue orbs glimmering with passion over things ranging from submarine geography to foreign cartoons to a bug he found on his backpack. Armin with his soft cool hands, the delicate curve of his lips, his many smiles – some quiet and subdued and private, others blinding – his clear, bell-like laughter and the lilt of his voice when he called Eren's name. Armin, who used to fight back tears so desperately when the neighborhood bullies beat him up as a kid, who lowered his eyes in denial whenever somebody tried to compliment him, who seemed to think so little of himself but dreamed so big. Armin, who to Eren had always been so smart and sweet and full of wonder, so determined and motivated and compassionate, and beautiful and comforting and...

“...Perfect,” he finally muttered. Jean gagged. “Oh, fuck off. You're the one who asked,” he scowled, feeling his face heating up. He felt like he was nearing the edge of a steep cliff he'd been stumbling blindly around for years. This conversation was giving him an idea of what he would see at the bottom, and he was a little afraid of that. So he kept trying to stave it off. “Still, what does that matter? I'm allowed to admire him.”

Jean heaved a put-upon sigh. “Okay, fine, let's try a different tactic since your skull seems to be even thicker than I gave you credit for. How do you feel when Armin holds your hand?”

“...Nice.” It was an understatement by a large degree.

“Cool. How about when Mikasa holds your hand?”

“Fine, I guess. But also kind of like a little kid.”

“Okay. How about mine?” He thrust his hand towards Eren with a shit-eating grin.

“In your dreams, horseface.”

“Does _anyone's_ hand feel as nice to hold as Armin's?”

“...No.”

“Alright, next topic. Does being around him make you feel warm and fuzzy inside? Above disclaimers about other people, yadda yadda.”

“I guess so,” he had to admit. Even just thinking about him made his heart go funny.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

“I dunno, how am I supposed to guess that?”

“Just go with your ideal, dumbass.”

“Ugh... Employed, hopefully. So I can travel.”

Jean raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“...With Armin,” he finished begrudgingly, his stomach giving an odd little somersault.

“Uh huh. Well, clearly you don't mind being all over each other. How about kissing? Have you ever thought about kissing him?” He met Eren's petulant glare with a scowl. “Hey, don't give me that look. I'm trying to help you out here. So, have you?”

“I guess. Sometimes.”

“Do you _want_ to?”

“...Yeah,” he muttered helplessly, staring down at his controller and tracing the buttons with a fingernail. To be honest, that was something that had been plaguing his mind quite frequently as of late. It didn't help that Armin kept catching his eye and _smiling_ at him, one of those small, private ones that seemed to cover up some secret, that seemed to be reserved only for Eren. He wanted to swallow that smile up – the idea had somehow worked its way into his mind so inextricably it was getting hard to hold his gaze lately. Eren tried not to dwell on it, but the thought kept creeping back up on him, especially at night, when he lay in bed awake and restless, in the dark where his imagination could turn to all sorts of things...

“Do you ever think of him when you jerk off?”

“Oh my god, Jean!” He flung his leg up to aim a messy kick at the other boy's knee, his face going red. Jean pulled back before it could connect, cackling.

“I'll take that as a resounding 'yes.' You're so transparent.”

Eren stared at his knees. Now that somebody had put it into words, it kind of made sense. He... had a crush. On his best friend. On  _Armin._ The realization was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. He looked helplessly at Jean.

“Shit, what do I do?”

The other boy groaned. “I dunno, just ask him out or something! I'm sure he'll say yes. I'm not gonna baby you through it when you're already practically dating.” He shuffled impatiently and picked his controller back up. “Are we done with the slumber party yet? Or do you want to play truth or dare next?”

But Eren was scrambling off the beanbag, his heart dancing a panicky beat in his chest. “Sorry, I gotta go,” he mumbled, shoving his shoes back on and grabbing his backpack.

“What? Come on, I was just about to trash you once and for all, too,” Jean complained, but he caught Eren by the elbow as he brushed past. “Hey, just... don't stress, okay? Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about.” He shot him a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, okay,” Eren replied distractedly, too preoccupied to think of some snappy retort. But as he stepped out of the house and into the chilly fall air, stress was all he did.

He had never really thought about his feelings for Armin – they had always just  _been._ Warm, constant, and unwavering, it was an unspoken love that needed no name. And he'd never really had a reason to question it, because he could feel how steady it was, and nothing mattered as long as Armin was by his side, not even the exact nature of their relationship. Armin could make anything vibrant and interesting, whether it was the angles of a rock or the life cycle of a fruit fly. Eren wasn't a fan of libraries, but if Armin was there it transformed from a stuffy, oppressive prison to a place of discovery, of private whispers and hushed conspiratorial giggles, or of calming tranquility in his quiet, focused presence. Armin wanted to see the world, and Eren did, too, but he wanted to see the colors that Armin would steep it in. Eren would be happy anywhere that Armin was, really.

The full magnitude of all this was finally hitting him, like a massive wave from the ocean Armin so desperately wanted to see. And complicating it all was the rest of it – the handholding, the kissing, the... other stuff. He already got to hold Armin's hand, and cuddle sometimes, and that was more than nice, that was fucking amazing, and part of him felt kind of bad that he wanted even more than that. But he couldn't stop his heart from racing when he imagined what it would be like to lean down and kiss him, to not have to force himself to sleep facing the wall when they had sleepovers... to be boyfriends. He couldn't stop imagining what it would be like to be boyfriends.

He swerved off the sidewalk and tromped through the leaf piles heaped on the roadside just to hear them rustle and crunch under his feet. What should he do? He didn't know how to deal with this. His first instinct was to just go find Armin and tell him – Eren had never been one for overthinking, but this time, he figured that this needed some thought. Armin was a thoughtful person, after all. Thoughtful, smart... way smarter than Eren. What if Eren wasn't smart enough for him? Doubt suddenly began to hit him. Someone as amazing as Armin probably had pretty high romantic standards. He'd already turned down a couple of confessions, in fact. Or what if Eren's feelings made him uncomfortable, coming from someone so close? What if he stopped wanting to hold hands, stopped wanting to cuddle... stopped wanting to be friends?

He tried to shake himself out of it, kicking at the leaves more violently and scattering some back into the road. A passing car honked at him irritably, but he ignored it. He knew Armin better than that, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't get totally cut off just for  _(being completely and totally head over heels)_ liking him. But the worry nagged at him anyway, curling unpleasantly into his belly.

Eren reached home in a state of distressed confusion, torn about what to do. He stomped up the stairs to his room, tossed his backpack unceremoniously in the corner... then stood blankly in the center of the room for a minute. His heart still hadn't settled down from its heightened pace and his brain was still a tangle of hopes and fears and thoughts and doubts all whirling around at once. He was excited, he was nervous, he was restless but unsure of where to direct his energy. He dropped his head into his hands, grasping at his hair as a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine bubbled unbidden from his throat. He straightened up and made an abrupt about-face, marching back to the door. There was no other choice – he had to ask for advice.

Mikasa barely reacted when he barged into her room, merely granting him a brief glance as she sat at her desk breezing through her homework, like the perfect student she was.

“Did Jean kick you out for breaking his controller again?”

“What – No, god, that only happened once, let it go already!” He snapped, rising to the bait too easily in his aggravated state. “I... need to talk to you about something. It's important.”

That caught her attention and she put her pen down, swiveling her chair around to face him. “Is everything okay?” Her dark gaze bored into him as if trying to pick him apart.

Fiddling nervously with his fingers, he moved to perch on the edge of her bed. He took a breath. He met her gaze.

“I... I have a crush on Armin,” he said gravely. As the words left his mouth he was struck again with the weight of how _true_ they were, and his heart did a somersault in his chest cavity.

Mikasa stared at him. And stared at him. He began to sweat. She lifted her hands and he flinched instinctively, half-expecting to end up in a headlock, but –

_ Clap, _ went her hands. There was a long pause.  _ Clap. _ Pause.  _ Clap. _

“Pardon my French, but it's about fucking time you figured that out,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly. It _hurts_ to watch you two.”

Eren scowled at her. “Hey, I didn't come here so you could make fun of me, too,” he bit out.

“Okay, so what's the problem?”

“What do you mean, what's the problem? _That's_ the problem!”

“It doesn't really seem like one to me.”

“It _is!_ He's my best friend! What the hell am I supposed to do?!”

He gestured violently as he grew more flustered and something in her gaze softened.

“Well, I think telling him is a good first step.”

“So you do think I should tell him?” Eren picked nervously at the bedsheet, but she smacked his hand away.

“Of course you should. You don't want to hold it in forever, do you?”

“Well, no, but... what if it makes him uncomfortable?”

Mikasa stared at him as if he were a lost cause. “Trust me. That won't happen.”

He frowned, not really satisfied with the answer. “How do you know?”

“Because everyone knows. Except you, apparently.”

Eren shot her a glare, but decided to move on. “How do you tell someone you like them, anyway?”

“Just like that, I imagine.” She rolled her eyes at his scowl. “Why does it have to be difficult?”

“I dunno, I wanna, like... impress him, at least,” he worried. Words had never been his strong suit, and he felt like he'd probably fuck up big time if he just went and tried to say it. And Armin was so wonderful, he deserved a proper confession, something that made him feel loved, even if he turned it down in the end.

Mikasa's eyes glimmered slyly. “Paint it on your chest and flex for him. That'll impress him.”

“ _What?”_ He felt his face flushing violently. “Come on, I'm serious!”

“So am I.” The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “Armin likes muscle.”

Eren spluttered and catapulted himself up. “Thanks for fucking nothing!” He barked, slamming the door behind him as she snickered. He stormed back to his own room, slamming that door, too. After a moment of fuming he stomped over to his mirror and yanked his shirt up, scrutinizing himself anxiously. He had a bit of tone, sure, from football and the occasional workout with Mikasa, but he didn't have abs like his sister or bulk like the star quarterback... shit, he  _ had _ noticed Armin sneaking glances at Reiner now and again. How was Eren supposed to compete with that? He tightened his stomach – there were the abs, but they smoothed back over when he relaxed. He dropped his shirt and pushed up his sleeve, flexing his arm instead. Yep, there was a bicep there, but it wasn't nearly as impressive as Reiner's. Reiner's were probably bigger than Eren's  _ head. _

He flung himself onto his bed and groaned dramatically into his pillow. That idea would never work. It would probably just make Armin laugh at him. Maybe he should just give up, and be content with what he had.

_ Buzz buzz. _

Grumbling, Eren fished his phone from his pocket more out of habit than anything. But his heart gave a little leap when he saw who it was from.

_ Armin: Hey I didn't leave my sweater in your room yesterday, did I? _

He couldn't help his little smile, even though it was such a mundane message. He cast a glance around the room but didn't see anything.

_ nah i dont think so, the blue one right? _ He tapped back.

_ Yeah, _ came the reply.

Not that he really needed the confirmation. He remembered perfectly well what sweater Armin had been wearing yesterday. The blue knit button-down, with sleeves that went just a little too far past his wrists. Armin had laughed that Eren was a space heater yesterday when they'd ended up snuggled together as they watched a movie, but instead of moving away he'd just taken the sweater off. The memory made Eren's heart feel like a space heater. But he definitely hadn't left it – Eren distinctly remembered watching him shrug it back on before he went home.

_ yeah its not here sorry _ he typed.  _ p sure you wore it home _

_ Oh yeah, maybe. I guess it'll turn up, then. _

Eren sighed at his screen, but before he could be disappointed at the end of the conversation, his phone buzzed again.

_ So what are you up to? Are you still over at Jean's? _

He grinned and immediately tapped out a reply, though he decided to leave a few things out.  _nah that loser got sick of me wiping the floor with him at smash and kicked me out in shame_

_Oh, really? I suppose he begged you not to spread the word of his humiliating defeat, too. :P_

_yeah you know how that guy is about his reputation_

_And here you are spreading the rumor already. Isn't that a bit cruel?_

_i am a merciless smash king_

_King? Now hold on, I don't think you've successfully taken that title from me yet._

_consider it my challenge then im so gonna take you down_

_Just like you took Jean down?_

_even harder i know i dont have to go easy on you_

_I'm quaking in my boots. Are you going to ruin my reputation, too?_

_dont worry youll put up a good fight and go down with honor_

_Thanks for having so much faith in me._

_what are you doing_

_Procrastinating on my History essay... I should probably get to that, though._

_ew essays. you have fun with that_

_I'll try... I look forward to the day we do battle. ;D_

_me too_

Eren stared down at his phone, a grin plastered across his face. His eyes lingered on the winky face, giddiness bubbling up in his chest. Okay. He wouldn't give up just yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up turning out way longer than I originally intended... I'm breaking it up into a few chapters so I can post the first one on time, since I don't have the energy to type the whole thing tonight whoops. That'll also give me some extra time to edit through the rest of it more thoroughly. Not sure when I'll be able to update this during the rest of this event, but I'll do my best to find some extra time for it. I probably shouldn't be attempting to write humor, but I hope this is enjoyable to read!


	2. Wednesday

“So, what was it you wanted to ask me, Eren?”

Reiner grinned broadly down at him, the muscles of his bare chest gleaming in post-shower dampness. They flexed beneath his skin like bowling balls as he reached into his locker for his shirt. Eren stared jealously, torn between his irrational inclination to get defensive over Armin's potential attractions and his need to ask Reiner's advice. His need for advice won out, so he tore his gaze away and redirected it to the hulking blonde's face. Also, Bertolt was starting to look at him in a quietly terrifying way. Best not give him the wrong impression.

“How do you tell someone you like them?” He asked bluntly. There was no sense in beating around the bush – Reiner was not known for his subtlety.

“Eren!” Reiner cried in delight, and next thing Eren knew he was caught up in a crushing hug, his face squashed into the quarterback's impressive bosom. “Look at you! Asking for love advice! You're truly a man now,” he sniffed, sounding tearful. Eren flailed in his arms, unable to breathe, but luckily Reiner pushed him away and held him at arms length, beaming. “Well, you've come to the right place!”

As the school's quarterback and therefore at the top of the popularity chain, Reiner had dated any number of girls before coming out of the closet and getting together with Bertolt. Eren had figured he was probably the best person to ask, having had the most experience out of the people he knew. But Bertolt was grimacing behind him. Eren wasn't sure what that was about, but it wasn't terribly comforting.

“Listen,” Reiner was saying. “Dating is super easy. All you gotta do is pick somebody!”

“Pick somebody...?”

“Well, yeah. You can't date _everyone_ who throws themself at you,” he scoffed. “Well, I guess you could, but most of them probably wouldn't be too happy with that. Just say, 'why sure I'll take you to the homecoming dance' or 'of course I'll meet you in the janitor's closet during study hall'...”

“Um,” Eren interjected with a frown. “I don't have anyone throwing themself at me.” If it were just a matter of _accepting,_ that would be easy.

“Oh.” Reiner looked stumped. “Have you tried winking?”

“Winking.”

“Yeah! Back before I came out, if there was a girl who was resisting my charms I just winked at her in the hallway, or something. She'd be in my fan club by lunchtime.” He chuckled fondly at the memory.

Eren had a feeling that he wasn't going to get very far with this. He doubted Armin's affections could be so easily won, for one thing. For another, he didn't have Reiner's looks or popularity. “How did you start dating Bertolt, then?” He asked, in a last attempt to salvage something even somewhat applicable.

“Oh, that just sort of happened,” Reiner said cheerfully. Bertolt heaved a deep sigh. “One day, we just sort of realized we were meant to be.” He looked over with dewy eyes and reached out to squeeze his boyfriend's hand. Bertolt managed a faint smile in response. “Anyway, I gotta go meet with the coach,” he continued, finally pulling on his shirt and picking up his bag. “Come see me any time you need advice! See you in a bit, Bert.” He leaned up for a quick kiss and then sauntered out of the locker room.

Bertolt looked over at him. “You're trying to ask Armin out, right?”

“Wh-- How'd you know?” Eren sputtered indignantly.

“Everyone knows. Except him, anyway.” He nodded in the direction Reiner had left. “I didn't really think you'd need help with that... Then again, some people are really dense.” He sighed. “I didn't think Armin was, but if you've gone this long... Just. Don't be like me. Don't go for subtlety.”

Eren looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean? Didn't Reiner say it just sort of... happened naturally?”

Bertolt sagged. “By that, he means that we'd been messing around for ages before he realized I had feelings for him,” he explained wistfully.

“Oh.” Eren blinked. He'd heard rumors, but hadn't known how true they were, and hadn't really cared. “How'd you finally get it across?”

“You mean besides telling him flat out that I liked him about a hundred times? I draped heart streamers with my name on them all over his room, covered his posters with love notes, put on a playlist of sappy romance songs, and filled his pillowcase with those valentine candies,” he replied grimly, with the air of a soldier recalling a battlefield. “Don't beat around the bush, Eren. You'll only suffer.”

Eren watched Bertolt leave with newfound respect. Something that extreme seemed a little too overwhelming for a first confession, though. Plus, Armin didn't even like the valentine candies. He thought they tasted like chalk, even though Eren disagreed. And Eren would know.

He exited the gym into the adjoining lobby to see Armin sitting against the wall, looking at his phone. He glanced up with a smile when he heard the door swing shut.

“Hey! You're later than usual.” It wasn't accusatory, just a comment.

“Yeah, sorry – Coach made me run some extra laps,” Eren lied, feeling a little guilty about it. “Did you find your sweater, by the way?”

“Hm? Oh! Yeah, it was just underneath some stuff.”

“Huh, you're usually more organized than that,” he teased. Armin chuckled (a bit nervously, Eren thought) and pushed himself to his feet, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders.

“I guess I just got distracted by schoolwork. Ready to go?”

“Yep.”

They pushed through the lobby doors into the cool fall afternoon. Armin shivered and tucked his hands under his elbows. Eren resisted the intense desire to wrap his arm around the shorter boy's shoulders. Normally he wouldn't have thought twice about such an action, but with his newfound awareness of the situation it seemed all too exposing of a gesture. He kept slightly more space in between them than usual so he wouldn't lose his cool and do something stupid.

“Do you have a lot of homework tonight?” Armin asked, casting him a sidelong glance. The mischievous glimmer in his blue eyes didn't go unnoticed. “If we finish early enough, maybe you can make good on your challenge.”

Eren sighed. “I dunno. I've been putting off an English reading that's due tomorrow. That'll probably take me a while.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you reading?”

“ _Frankenstein._ I was actually kind of excited for this one, but it's way more boring than the movies.”

Armin gave him a sympathetic frown. “Yeah, that one's pretty dense. And not quite as... action-focused as certain adaptations make it out to be.”

“No kidding. Maybe we can do it tomorrow, though.”

“Oh... Sorry, Eren, I actually have a debate team meeting tomorrow.” Armin really enjoyed the debate team, but he sounded genuinely regretful. Eren hurried to encourage him.

“Oh, cool! When's your first competition?”

“In a couple weeks, probably. Mr. Smith has been contacting some other schools.”

“Let me know when you find out, I'll go watch if it's not a game day.”

“Won't you have practice, though?”

“Eh, I can skip a day or two here and there for you.”

The words seemed so painfully obvious as they left his mouth and for a moment he expected Armin to look at him funny. But instead, he looked rather touched. Eren caught a glimpse of pink creeping into his cheeks before a curtain of golden hair obscured them from view.

“That's really nice of you,” he mumbled to the pavement.

Eren's heart fluttered in his chest. Maybe he did have a shot, after all. “Well, what are best friends for?” He blurted. Shit. “I mean, and you're really cool when you're up there, you know? Like, you get really in the zone. And you tear down the other team like a badass.”

“Thanks.” Armin still wouldn't quite look him in the eye. “I just do my research, is all.”

Eren hoped his choice of words hadn't given the wrong indication of his interest. “Anyway,” he forged ahead. “I'm excited to see the next one.”

Armin finally looked back at him with a small smile. “You'll have to keep me posted on when your games are, too,” he said.

“Yeah, of course!” Eren puffed up his chest a little. Nothing made him play harder than knowing Armin was in the bleachers watching, cheering for him. Well, hopefully watching him, and not Reiner. His previous conversation drifted back into his head and he glanced over at Armin. He considered for a moment. Then he squeezed his right eye shut. He felt like half his face scrunched up with it.

Armin's eyes widened a little and Eren's heart did a backflip. Was it actually working?! Maybe Reiner kind of knew what he was talking about, after all. How long were you supposed to hold a wink, anyway?

“Um... Are you okay?” Armin asked, his brows knitting together in concern.

“Shit. I mean, yeah, just – something in my eye,” Eren lied quickly, turning away and grinding the heel of his palm against his eyelid to make it more convincing.

“Rubbing it will just make it worse, you know,” Armin informed him mildly. Tears sprang to Eren's eyes as he accidentally dislodged an eyelash. He was going to need some better advice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Reiner's characterization here maaaaay have been inspired by Attack on High School Athletics which I highly recommend if you want to read something hilarious/smutty. That author is about a hundred times funnier than I am. But I hope you still enjoyed this chapter! This one was a bit short, but the next one will be longer.


	3. Thursday

By some miraculous stroke of luck, Eren ended up partnered with Krista for pair work during history class the next day. It saved him the trouble of trying to get ahold of her during lunch or after cheer practice, when she'd undoubtedly be surrounded by her posse of popular girls, and, even more intimidatingly, Ymir. His problem wasn't really one he felt like sharing with a group of strangers who'd probably have rumors spreading all over school within 20 minutes.

“Hey, um, Krista,” he began, after casting a glance around to make sure nobody within earshot was paying attention. Luckily, “pair work” translated into “slack time” for the majority of the class, and the room was filled with enough chatter to cover his words. “Can I ask you something?”

The petite girl looked up from her textbook with a saccharine smile. “Sure, Eren, what's up?” He thought he saw a wary glimmer somewhere in her eyes despite her cheerful attitude. He didn't know her quite as well as Reiner, so he tried to tread carefully.

“So like... you've dated a lot, right?”

“I'm not going out with you or any of your friends,” she said flatly, the smile still plastered to her face.

“What? No!” Eren spluttered indignantly. “I know you're dating Ymir, anyway.”

Krista gave a sigh, relaxing. “You'd be surprised how little that matters to some guys,” she confided. “Honestly, I never pegged you as, er... interested. But hey, I've been surprised, too.” There was a bitter shade to her laugh, but then she was all sweetness again. “Sorry to jump to conclusions. What do you need?”

“Actually,” he said, feeling his face heating up a bit. “I was wondering if you had any advice. On, um... you know. Confessing, or whatever.”

“Aww! That's so sweet!” She cooed, clasping her fingers in apparent delight. Eren could do without the sparkles that practically filled the air around her. “Well,” she said dreamily, “it depends on the person, but I think going romantic is always the best way. Flowers, a nice dinner out... You're a sports guy, so maybe give hi... give them your varsity jacket and carry their books for them. Oh! Love poems are always nice, too!” She added excitedly. “That's how I confessed to Ymir, you know.” Her beam was so bright Eren felt like his eyes would burn out. He'd never pictured Ymir as the type to be impressed by something so mushy... but then again, if Armin wrote _him_ a love poem, he'd be over the moon.

Krista spent the rest of the period talking animatedly about exaggerated romantic overtures she'd seen in movies that all seemed a little too expensive, outside of Eren's physical capabilities, or of questionable moral nature. Needless to say, he didn't get his worksheet done.

\--

Eren sat in the cafeteria, his study hall period winding down before lunch. Krista's words spiraled through his head, all glitter and sap. Armin... already had his varsity jacket, actually. Eren had given it to him at a game once when Armin had forgotten his own jacket, and Eren had told him to just keep it because he never got cold anyway. He couldn't very well ask for it back now just to try to re-gift it in some dramatic gesture. And he already helped carry Armin's books, because the blonde had so _many_ – he'd be remiss in his duties as Best Friend if he let him lug all those heavy textbooks around on his own. He could probably manage flowers, but it almost felt kind of lazy with how cliche it was. Armin was quite fond of daffodils, though... Eren filed it away in the back of his mind, just in case.

A love poem. That was the last thing bouncing around inside his skull, and the most worrisome of the bunch. Eren was shit at writing, and even worse at poetry. There was a reason English was his worst subject. Armin was so good at it, he'd probably laugh in Eren's face if he tried. Still...

_Just rely on your feelings,_ Krista had told him, her voice drenched in honey.  _Love will find a way._

There was no harm in trying... right? He could always just scrap it if it didn't work out, after all. But maybe his feelings  _would_ find a way. They were pretty strong – he could feel them battering at his ribcage as he sat there, like a bunch of violent prisoners taking sledgehammer fists to their drywall cells. A little nervously, he picked up his pen and looked down at the notebook page that had sat blank before him the whole period.

After a few long minutes of contemplation, he finally set pen to paper.

_Your hair is gold,_ he began. He stared at the words, his mind creaking as it churned painstakingly through his mental dictionary.

_And my heart is sold_

_Your eyes are like the ocean_

He stopped. What rhymed with “ocean”? “Motion”? “Potion”? “ _You're my love potion_ ” maybe? No, that was stupid. He deliberated for a while, then scribbled it out and rewrote it.

_Your eyes are ~~like the ocean~~ blue_

_ And the ocean is too _

Hmm. He tapped his pen thoughtfully against his lips. Inspiration struck him suddenly and he hunched intently over the notebook.

_ I want to see it together with you _

_ Your laugh makes me  ~~ happ ~~ glad _

_ Your tears make me sad _

_ And I'll beat up your bullies cuz they make me mad _

He paused again. So far, there wasn't much “love” in this love poem. But the words were beginning to flow a little easier now.

_ I like you a lot _

_ You're the best friend I got _

_ I'd really like to kiss you _

_ But if you want to stay just friends then that's okay too _

“Hey, what'cha doing?”

The hushed, familiar voice came from just behind him and he let out a shrill screech, slamming both hands down on the paper. It earned him snickers from the other students and an irritated glare from the study hall monitor.

Armin stared down at him in wide-eyed surprise.

“Nothing!” He croaked unconvincingly, feeling his traitorous face go bright red. His hands clenched around the paper, crumpling it. It tore messily out of his notebook. “Just... nothing!” He balled it up and shoved it into the bottom of the bag, too flustered to even think of a proper excuse. He'd felt like it was going kind of well, but now, suddenly faced with the person in question, it seemed all too simple, too mediocre, too...  _stupid_ for someone as smart and wonderful and amazing as Armin.

“Oh.” Armin blinked. “Sorry to, um... interrupt. Ms. Ral let us out early,” he explained, lowering himself almost cautiously into the seat beside Eren. “Is everything... okay?”

“Yeah!” He replied hastily. “Fine! Uh, how was class?” He asked, eager to change the subject.

Armin took the hint, bless him, and began to tell him about the new book assignment in his Honors English class. He seemed a bit fidgety, but Eren attributed it as a reaction to his own admittedly bizarre behavior. Yeah, the love poem thing was definitely out. He'd keep the flowers in mind, though.

\--

“Oi, Jaeger!”

Eren looked around in confusion as he left the gym after practice, and saw Ymir bearing down on him. Uh oh. He cast around for refuge, but his teammates were backing away from him. He had no choice but to face the threat.

“Uh, hi Ymir. What's the matter?”

She came to a halt before him, seeming to tower over him even though she was only slightly taller. “I hear you were chatting up my girlfriend,” she said, leering down at him.

Eren began to sweat. It was not a good idea to get on Ymir's bad side. Not only was she tough enough to take on any given member of the football team (and wild enough to do so), but her relationship with Krista also gave her direct access to the very top of the social food chain. While Eren didn't care much about his social status, the last guy he'd heard of who'd gone after Krista had ended up with highly embarrassing baby photos plastered all throughout the hallways. Eren had heard enough of his mom's stories about his own infant years to know that he would really prefer not to have the same happen to him.

“I was chatting  _with_ her,” he offered, in his own defense.

“My sources say you were  _asking_ her things.” Ymir gave him an unpleasant grin. “C'mere a sec, would you?” Her hand closed firmly around his forearm, not giving him much of a choice. He scowled as he let her drag him outside and around the corner to the secluded area behind the gym, and he irritably shook his arm free when they stopped.

“Look, I was just talking to her, okay?” He snapped. “I'm not going after your sugar queen.”

“Shut it, Jaeger.” Ymir rolled her eyes. “I know you're not. I just figured you might want a little privacy for this.”

“Huh?” He stared at her blankly.

“My sources say you were asking for love advice.” She steepled her fingers and looked at him sagely. Her sources were good. “Well, I'm here to offer you some.”

“Oh.” Eren blinked. That was unexpected. “Thanks? Wait.” He suddenly remembered who he was dealing with, and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What's in it for you?”

“What's in it for  _me_ is not having to watch you and Arlert playing emotional gay chicken anymore,” Ymir spat, ignoring his surprised flustering. “Seriously. You two make me sick. Get over yourselves and just bang already.” She mimed retching. “Consider this my good deed to society for the year.”

Eren watched her turn away and realized she was making to leave. “Wait,” he said in confusion, and she turned back around. “What's the advice, though?”

“That  _was_ my advice – just bang already. What, do you need a guidebook or something? Go ask the internet for that part.”

He felt himself flushing, stubbornly refusing to let his mind go there right now. “But what about, like... the love poems and shit?”

“Who the fuck needs love poems? This isn't some Disney movie.”

Eren blinked, confused now for an entirely different reason. “But isn't that how you and Krista...?”

Ymir let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Is that what she told you?” She cackled, seeming to find this genuinely hilarious. “Listen. Krista just climbed into my lap one day and gave me a big, wet kiss. It was that easy.” She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “If you're that worried, smooth it over with some flirting first. See how he takes it. Trust me, he'll take it well.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Then you just plant one on 'im. You can figure that much out yourself, can't you?” She mocked, puckering her thin lips.

Eren could only grumble, flustered by her choice of words and the images they called up. Ymir clapped him hard on the back as she strode away.

“See you in fairyland!” She called over her shoulder.

He just stood there processing for a few minutes, then began to trudge slowly homeward. As nice (really,  _really_ nice) it would be to just lean down and kiss Armin, it definitely seemed way too sudden. He wanted Armin to have room to reject him, even if the thought made Eren's throat clog up and his stomach feel like lead. He considered Ymir's words. Flirting, huh? Maybe that could be a good way to gauge how receptive Armin might be. Now... how was flirting supposed to go, exactly?

When he got home he tossed himself onto his bed and pulled out his phone. His teachers would've cried with joy if he ever put half as much effort into researching his papers as he put into researching this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has gotta be my favorite chapter. It was so much fun writing Eren's awful love poem and Ymir's attitude.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope everyone's still enjoying this!


	4. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren's reaching the "it's not fun anymore" stage of his crush.

Eren caught Connie and Sasha before lunch. He was really scraping the bottom of the barrel, here – his attempts at finding out how to properly flirt hadn’t really turned up anything useful. Lots of eye contact, smiles, casual touching, little compliments… those were already pretty much staples in his friendship with Armin. He was getting desperate. He’d been awake all night running through possible scenarios, trying to think up clever one-liners… but even in his own head he kept making a fool of himself. And he was running out of friends to go to for advice.

“’Sup, Eren?” Connie greeted cheerfully as he approached. The short boy waited propped against the row of lockers while Sasha rummaged around in her own.

“Hey,” he responded wearily. “I have a question for you guys.” He paused for a moment to give the hallway time to empty.

“What do you need?” Sasha asked curiously, wrestling her huge lunch bag out of the locker and turning to face him with a smile.

“How do you let someone know you like them?” He asked, too tired to bother finding a way to word it less bluntly. He wasn’t really expecting some stunning revelation from the school oddballs, but again – he was getting desperate.

“Oh!” Sasha gasped excitedly, then her lips spread into a sly grin. “Are you finally getting together with Armin?”

Eren grimaced, disgruntled but no longer surprised that literally everybody seemed to know about this. Well, almost everyone. Connie looked over in confusion.

“With Armin? What makes you think that?” He frowned.

“Dude, are you seriously telling me you never noticed how into each other they are?” Sasha laughed.

“Well, yeah, they’re best buds!”

“You have so much to learn,” she sighed, shaking her head. Then she seemed to remember that Eren was still standing there. “You really need help with that? Seems to me you’ve got it pretty in the bag.”

“It’s not really that easy,” he grumbled in response. Even though everyone apparently thought it was. But if Eren had gone so long without realizing the full extent of his feelings, who’s to say that anything beyond their long-established friendship had even crossed Armin’s mind? Maybe Armin was perfectly content with the way things were, despite what everyone else was so quick to assert.

“Well,” Connie chimed back in, accepting the situation readily enough. “The fastest way to a person’s heart…”

“Is through their stomach,” Sasha finished, as they exchanged a grin. “Buy him dinner!”

“Or lunch! Or brunch! Or make him breakfast in bed!”

“Oooh, breakfast in bed is the best,” Sasha said dreamily. “Nothing beats home cooking.”

“The special ingredient is _love_.” Connie waggled his eyebrows. “Or you could just share your lunch snacks with him. That’s always nice, too.”

“That little extra gesture to show you care!” She swooned. “Man… all this talk of food is making me hungry.”

“Go ahead,” Eren sighed, waving them off. He didn’t know what else he’d expected, honestly. “Thanks for the… advice.”

“No problem! Lemme know if you need any recipes,” Sasha winked. “And good luck! You got this!” She slipped her arm around Connie’s shoulders as the duo started off down the hall. “So, you’re gonna give me your gummy bears today, right?”

“What? Hell no, I’m still waiting for those cookies you promised me!” He shot back.

Their banter faded into the distance as Eren trudged off to retrieve his own lunch from his locker. Yet again, he’d been given advice that he didn’t really know what to do with. He and Armin did go out to eat on occasion, whether alone or with a couple other friends. But neither of them had jobs, so they mostly just went to fast food places or cheap family restaurants, neither of which made for very good confession spots. He did have some allowance saved up though… maybe he could treat Armin to a bakery trip sometime. But would it be taken the way he meant it? He was pretty sure he still owed Armin some money for spotting him the last time they’d gone to the movies together. And as much as he loved the image of bringing Armin breakfast in bed, trying to actually cook something was not an option. He still couldn’t trust himself not to set the toaster on fire.

Eren made his way listlessly to the cafeteria and slumped into his usual seat. Armin looked over at him in concern.

“Are you okay, Eren?”

“Yeah,” he replied, rather unconvincingly. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look Armin full in the face. The blonde’s mere presence had his heart doing circus acrobatics in his throat. If Eren met his eyes, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings – he felt painfully obvious enough as it was. And while keeping his emotions clamped down was becoming dramatically more distressing by the day, he really didn’t want his confession to come in the form of a breakdown in the middle of a crowded cafeteria.

“You’re not sick, are you? You look a little feverish.”

Jean scoffed from across the table. “Oh, he’s sick alright,” he grinned. “Sick with lo—Ow!” He received a sharp elbow to the ribs from Mikasa beside him. Eren glowered and Armin looked bemused.

“It must be that _project_ bothering him. Right, Eren?” His sister asked, giving him a pointed look.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” He accepted her cover gratefully.

“Project? I didn’t know you had another one already,” Armin frowned. He looked a little skeptical.

“It just kind of… came up,” he said, hurriedly dumping his lunchbox out onto the table to avoid further questioning. A few plastic containers toppled out with a clatter, and he took stock as he stood them upright. A ham sandwich, a yogurt, some gross carrot sticks… oh, the last of his mom’s homemade brownies was in here. He hesitated for a moment while he gathered his nerve.

“Here,” he mumbled, sliding the brownie container towards Armin and fighting the blush he could feel starting to creep up his neck.

“What? Eren, those are your favorite,” Armin protested in confusion, trying to push it back. The crisp top layer of delicate, flaky chocolate shimmered seductively at him through the tupperware, but today its charms bounced ineffectively off him.

“You like them, too. You take it. I’m… not that hungry.” He slid the container firmly back towards Armin. It wasn’t a lie, exactly – his stomach was churning too much for him to really have an appetite. He was positive that Armin could see right through him. Mikasa was pinching Jean hard on the forearm to stop him from making gagging noises.

Armin frowned at him for a long moment, then cast a worried glance at Mikasa. She just shrugged, but Eren could feel both their gazes as he stared down at his hands, snapping the carrot sticks into pieces.

\--

“Are you… sure you’re okay?” Armin asked, leaning against the lockers as Eren sorted his books out before practice. There was something off about his tone – shit, was he catching on? “You’ve seemed kind of out of it all day.”

“I’m fine, just a little tired is all,” he said, trying to sound casual. Armin was silent for a few moments, and Eren could picture him chewing thoughtfully on his lip. As he stood and swung his backpack onto his shoulder, he chanced a glance and saw exactly that. He turned abruptly to shut his locker so he could hide the giddy smile that sprang irrationally to his lips, wrestling his expression back into submission. He scowled instead.

“If you say so.” Armin sounded unconvinced, and looked a little uncertain. He tucked his hair behind his ear the way he did when he was nervous. “Just… you know you can talk to me, right…?”

He reached out, and when Eren felt the sudden brush of cool skin against his hand he instinctively jolted away with a sharp intake of breath because _oh god Armin’s touching me_ and it was the same touch as always but now he was so _aware_ of it, just the lightest skim of those soft fingers had his blood pounding in his ears, had electric currents spiking through his brain—

But he saw the momentary look of shock on Armin’s face, and realized that he’d fucked up.

“Wait—” Eren started, grabbing for him in a panic, but Armin recoiled, his hands snapping back to tuck defensively beneath his elbows.

“No, that’s okay,” he said, the words rushing out with a brief, breathless laugh. “I get it, I…” his wide blank eyes dropped to the floor, a hollow smile frozen on his face. “Earlier I actually… I overheard Ymir and Krista saying that you have a, a crush on someone. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… You wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea…” He laughed again, the sound tight and strained. “Anyway, you should— you should get to practice.” He wheeled abruptly around and hurried away down the hall. He didn’t look back up.

 _It’s you!_ Eren wanted to scream, but despite the fact that his lungs were burning and his gut was a writhing mass of snakes, he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t speak. He could only watch, wide-eyed, as Armin’s hunched figure disappeared around the corner.

His throat tightened painfully. What the fuck was wrong with him? He regained control of his limbs and aimed a sharp kick at his locker. The tinny _slam_ echoed unsatisfyingly in the now-empty hallway.

Eren let out a thin, shaky breath, then turned and stalked towards the gym. But when he reached the connecting lobby, he made a sharp left and exited the building. Fuck practice. He was done with this whole mess. He was gonna sort this out if it killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS how'd that angst get in there.
> 
> Sorry to leave it like this for now - I was gonna post the last two chapters at once but honestly the final chapter still needs a lot of revision/rewriting and I'm not sure how long it'll take me to do that. And I think it's already been like a week since I posted the last chapter, oops.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys are still enjoying this! I'll do my best to make sure the conclusion is satisfying for everyone who's been waiting for it!


	5. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post! I ended up completely re-writing this chapter from scratch, but I'm a lot happier with it now. I hope all my lovely readers enjoy it too!

Mikasa stuck her head into the kitchen. “Do I smell something burning?” She asked, masterfully masking any concern she might be feeling under a surface layer of apathy.

“No!” Eren snapped, getting defensive anyway. He cursed her keen nose – he’d even left the window open, too. “What are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

His sister just raised an eyebrow and shot a pointed look towards the clock. He followed her gaze and saw that it was already two in the afternoon.

“Shit!” Eren dashed over to where he’d left his phone lying on the counter, swiping open his messenger and squinting at the screen through a dusting of floury fingerprints.

_hey are you free today_

His heart plummeted as he saw his own message still waiting at the bottom of the screen, woefully unanswered. He’d sent that text _hours_ ago. He’d even ended up calling and leaving a rather rambling message… which may have actually made things even more unclear, now that he thought about it. Armin never left him hanging this long, not even when he was busy – he was definitely upset. The thought made guilt roil in Eren’s stomach. Now he needed to confess _and_ apologize. He was sure he would be able to at least smooth things over today… if Armin would answer his damn phone, that is. He swallowed thickly.

“Does Mom know you’ve been baking unsupervised?”

He turned abruptly to see that Mikasa had somehow teleported behind him and was peering over the muffin tray cooling on top of the stove. He felt himself coloring.

“No,” he admitted. “But I swear I followed the directions this time!” Okay, well, the second time anyway. He tried not to cast a guilty glance towards the trash bin, which housed the blackened, mangled remains of his first attempt. Patience had never been one of his virtues – and wasn’t it only natural to assume that turning the oven heat up higher would make it cook faster? But after extinguishing the resulting smoldering monstrosities and then struggling to salvage the char-encrusted pan, he’d decided that maybe he should trust the cookbook just this once. But his mom would probably kill him if she found out – she still wouldn’t let go of last year’s Mother’s Day fiasco.

“You won’t— Hey, don’t touch that!” Eren snapped as Mikasa plucked a muffin from the tray. “They’re not for you!”

“I know that. Don’t you want to know how they came out before you give any to Armin?” She rolled her eyes and delicately pulled a chunk from the edge of the slightly singed muffin top as Eren spluttered. She popped it into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“This is pretty good, for you,” Mikasa remarked. “You didn’t even burn it that badly.” She turned the muffin in her hand, examining it. “The raisins are an… interesting choice.”

“They’re blueberries,” Eren mumbled.

Mikasa froze momentarily. “Oh. Well. They… add texture.” She stepped closer and held the muffin out to him. Begrudgingly, he pulled a chunk off as well. The crusted surface was kind of tough, and the insides were a little grainy, and he must not have used enough sugar because it wasn’t quite as sweet as he’d thought it would be – but maybe that was just the overcooking. And Mikasa was right, the blueberries were oddly chewy.

Eren stared at the muffin glumly. “Fuck my life,” he swore, but he didn’t even have the energy to put much heart into it. He let himself slump heavily against the counter. Everything was going wrong. The muffins sucked. The sunflowers he’d pulled from his mom’s garden had been stubborn and he’d had to tear the stems apart – they were a mangled mess lying on the kitchen table now. And worst of all, the other thing, the _real_ centerpiece to his feelings, which he’d been up half the night working on, had turned out looked like a five-year-old had made it.

Mikasa frowned and moved to lean beside him, setting the muffin aside. “I take it things aren’t going too well with Armin.”

“Yeah…” Eren gave a defeated sigh, pausing for a moment before he decided to confide in her. “I… upset him.”

Her brows drew together in concern. “What happened?”

He explained the events of the previous afternoon, chest tightening as he remembered how Armin had tried so hard to cover up his hurt, and how powerless he’d been to just clear things up then and there. “So I wanna try to apologize and stuff today, but everything’s turning out awful, and he won’t even answer his phone. I just… I hope it’ll be okay.”

Mikasa gave him a look that seemed almost disbelieving. “Do you really still think you don’t have a chance? Even after his reaction to thinking you like someone else?”

Eren threw his shoulders up in a helpless, exasperated shrug. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything anymore! We tell each other everything, he might be mad that I talked to other people before him.” He dropped his head into his hands. “God, I just. I hate this. Everything seems so complicated all of a sudden. And I can’t stop second-guessing shit. Everything I do, everything he does… it sucks.”

His sister stroked his back comfortingly. “It’ll be okay,” she soothed. “Trust me.”

“Everyone says that,” he grumbled into his palms.

“Well, let’s prove it then.”

Eren looked over in confusion as Mikasa pushed away from the counter and began to rifle through one of the drawers. “What are you doing?”

“Getting a container for the muffins.” She pulled out a plastic bin, visually measuring it.

“I can’t give these to Armin, they’re terrible—”

“They’re not that bad, and he’ll appreciate the effort.” She set the bin down on the counter and grabbed a small bag from a shelf, tugging off the rubber band keeping it closed. “It’ll help to sprinkle a little powdered sugar on top.”

Eren prickled and snatched the bag from her. “Fine, _I’ll_ do it.” If he was going to give them to Armin anyway, they were going to be one-hundred percent his own creation. Mikasa thrust a small, fine strainer over his shoulder just before he started to dump the powdery substance over the muffins. He accepted it begrudgingly.

“Are these flowers for him, too?” She asked from behind him as he shook a generous layer of sugary snow over the muffins, covering up the singed edges. “Mom's gonna kill you. I can cut the stems a little neater, if you want.”

“I’ll do it in a second!” He screeched, whirling to make sure she wasn’t messing with them and dumping half the strainer in the process. Fuck.

“Okay, okay,” Mikasa rolled her eyes. “Can I at least wet a paper towel to keep them from wilting? I promise I’ll let you wrap it yourself.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, trying to shake off the extra mountains of powdered sugar as he began to stack the muffins into the container.

A few stressful minutes later the muffins were packed, the sunflowers were a little neater and bundled into a wet paper towel wrapped in foil, and Mikasa had finished dusting the sugar out of Eren’s hair.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

“Just a second.”

Eren darted up the stairs to his room, coming to a halt in front of his desk. Amongst all the scraps littering his desk sat the thing he’d been working on all yesterday afternoon and into the night. He’d actually been kind of proud of it when he’d finished sometime around two in the morning, but looking at it in daylight now it seemed… really childish, and really corny, and a lot more patchwork and messy. Even just thinking of showing it to Armin made his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. But he took a deep breath. If he was gonna do this, he might as well go balls-out. So he slipped it into his backpack, between his folders since it was too big to properly fit in one, lifted the backpack gingerly onto his shoulder, and headed back downstairs.

“Okay,” he said to Mikasa, who was waiting by the front door. “Ready.” As he’d ever be, anyway.

She solemnly handed him the muffin bin and the flowers, and clapped him on the back. “Good luck, soldier. Don’t wimp out.”

“I won’t!”

“Good. Because if you do I’ll tell Mom that you broke your promise about going near the stove.”

“Wow, fuck you too.” Eren scowled and stomped outside, but he cast a last look over his shoulder. Mikasa nodded in wordless understanding as she shut the door behind him. Their rite of embarrassment-free gratitude complete, Eren squared his shoulders and set off down the sidewalk.

\--

The front door swung open while Eren was still trying to muster the courage to knock, and Armin’s grandpa blinked down at him in surprise.

“Oh, hello,” the old man greeted kindly, not letting his bemusement get in the way of his manners. “I was just heading out to the Gardener’s Association. You must be here to see Armin.”

Eren didn’t trust himself to speak, and just nodded.

Mr. Arlert cast a concerned glance back into the house. “The truth is, he’s been a bit down in the dumps all day,” he admitted. His eyes drifted down to the plastic container and flowers in Eren’s grasp, and his expression relaxed into a warm smile. “But it looks like you’re here to fix that.”

“I’m… gonna do my best,” Eren managed, trying to look confident.

“My grandson is lucky to have someone like you.” The old man chuckled, and held the door open to welcome him in. “Make yourself at home, as usual. Armin is in his room.” He closed the door gently behind him as he left the stoop.

Eren made his way into the living room, feeling awkward for the first time in this house he’d spent practically as much time in as his own. Memories accosted him as he stepped through the house. There was the old bookshelf that once held countless children’s books, which Armin used to read out loud as Eren cuddled him and played with his hair. There was the couch in front of the TV where Armin had once fallen asleep on Eren’s lap during one of their all-night movie marathons. There was the lopsided model ship they’d built together – Eren had accidentally broken the mast and they’d had to glue it back together, but Armin loved it so much it was still displayed on the end table years later. Was this what it was like to have your life flash before your eyes? Eren wondered, and tried to shake off the nostalgia as he started up the stairs – the stairs that they used to slide down in sleeping bags, much to the chagrin of the adults in the house. Dammit.

Armin’s bedroom door was closed. Eren stopped and took a few breaths to steel himself before he reached up and knocked.

There was silence for a moment, then a light shuffling sound. “Come in,” came Armin’s voice, and even though it was muffled by the door it sounded a little groggy.

Eren stepped cautiously into the room. His eyes snapped immediately to Armin, who was sitting at his desk chair, head bowed as he rubbed at his eyes. Judging by his mussed hair and the fabric creases imprinted into his cheek, he must’ve been dozing off at his desk – something he usually only did during the high-stress days of finals. The dark circles and slight redness around his eyes didn’t escape Eren’s notice, and he felt another stab of guilt.

“Sorry, Grandpa, I’ll come down in a— Oh.” Armin looked up and froze when he saw who was standing in his doorway. After a few moments of apparent shock, he found his voice again. “E-Eren,” he said, standing up and unconsciously smoothing his fingers through his hair. “I… didn’t know you were coming.”

“Sorry,” Eren mumbled. “I tried to call, but…”

“Oh. Yeah.” Armin cast a guilty glance at the phone lying in the covers of his unmade bed. “Sorry, I… was kind of busy.”

An awkward silence passed between them, neither of them quite looking at the other. Eren shuffled. He didn’t know what to say, and his heart beating in the base of his throat was making him feel an unpleasant combination of queasy and jittery. He should just say it. But how? He cast around for some inspiration on how to start and his gaze fell on the things in his arms. Oh, right.

“Here,” he said, stepping forward and holding out the bin and the flowers. “These are for you.”

Armin noticed the items for the first time and an array of expressions flitted across his face, finally settling on confusion. “Huh?”

“It’s… Well, I’m really sorry about yesterday.” Right. Start with the apology. “I… I really should’ve told you sooner, but…” Okay, now move on to the confession. I like you. _I like you._ Fuck, why wouldn’t it come out of his mouth?

“Eren, you…” Armin paused to swallow, and took a breath. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Your love life is your business, you’re not obligated to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” He was looking off to the side somewhere, hands tucked beneath his elbows even though it wasn’t cold.

“No, but…” Eren huffed in frustration, pushing the gifts towards him more insistently. “I made you blueberry muffins! And sunflowers! I mean, I didn’t make the sunflowers, but.” This was not what he wanted to be saying. “I know you like daffodils best but there weren’t any.” C'mon, Jaeger, get ahold of yourself! “But I thought, these are kind of the same color, so.” He wanted to jump out the window. “Anyway, just… here.”

He was practically shoving them against Armin’s chest at this point and the other boy had no choice but to accept them. As Eren rambled Armin’s lips had tugged into a small, helpless smile, but his eyes also looked a little damp.

“That’s… really sweet of you,” he managed, blinking down at the bright yellow flowers laying atop the bin. “Um, I should… I should get some water. For the flowers.”

He quickly brushed past Eren, who trailed after him into the hallway. As he followed Armin downstairs, he thought he heard a sniffle or two – or maybe it was the creak of the old floorboards. He internally cursed himself as Armin busied himself getting a vase, clattering cupboards on the way and running the sink a little harder than necessary. Why did he have to be so bad at this? Also, whoever had suggested flowers and food had given him terrible advice. That hadn’t gotten his feelings across at all. It had just made Armin even more upset.

“So, um,” Armin said as he set the vase of sunflowers on the kitchen table, his back still turned to Eren. “I really appreciate you doing this for me. But, well, I’m sorry but I can’t really hang out today. I have a bunch of readings to do, and I’ll need to help my grandpa with some things later, and…”

“Wait,” Eren blurted, his stomach plummeting like lead. Armin couldn’t kick him out, not yet, not when he still hadn’t gotten around to the most important thing. “I… There’s something else.”

“Eren, really, there’s no need, I swear I’m not mad at you or anything—”

“No! That’s not it. I mean, well, it kind of is, but…” He trailed off and clamped his teeth. No, he needed to just shut the fuck up for a second and stop thinking. That was his problem. He swung his backpack around to the front and unzipped the main pocket. As he reached in, he realized his hands were shaking. But before he could let himself reconsider, he pulled the thing out of his backpack and thrust it into Armin’s hands.

Eren could feel his face burning as he dropped the backpack to slump by his feet. He was suddenly very interested in the sunflowers on the table. Who knew they had so many petals? He tried to count them in the excruciating silence that followed, but he kept losing track before he reached ten. The repetitive _tick tock_ of the bird-themed clock on the wall was driving him crazy. He tried to keep his mouth firmly shut.

But he just couldn’t do it. Every moment that Armin was silent was another stab of insecurity. Armin was probably going to laugh at him, after all. He had to explain himself. His voice cracked through the silence, and he stumbled over his words.

“I know it’s kind of stupid, I’m not, like… good at this stuff. But I couldn’t really think of a good way to tell you, and nobody else could tell me anything helpful, and I just thought… Well, you know how we always talk about traveling, and you have so many places you want to see, and I really want to see them with you. I mean, I want to see them with you _anyway,_ but I just—”

“Eren.” The breathless voice cut off his nervous rambling and he dared to look back over.

Armin stared wide-eyed down at the large heart-shaped sheet in his hands, his face almost as red as the construction paper. His incredulous blue gaze traced over the collage of landmarks and monuments pasted onto it, the far-off bridges and famous buildings, the foreign towers and temples and landscapes that Eren had spent hours cutting painstakingly out of travel magazines. His eyes stopped in the center of the heart, filled with a large image of the ocean, a deep green tide against a clear blue sky. Before it stood a somewhat crude colored-pencil drawing of two figures, hand in hand, a blonde and a brunette, facing away towards the glittering water.

Armin took a deep, shaky breath. “Eren, no, this isn’t stupid at all, it’s…” He trailed off and shook his head slightly, as if he couldn’t find the words.

The look on his face caused something to click into place behind Eren’s ribcage and he felt suddenly steadier. “I like you a lot,” he admitted quietly, his heart pirouetting into his throat as he finally spoke the words. “Like… really a lot. And it’s okay if you want to stay the way we are. You’re still my best friend. But, if you want, then maybe we could…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence when Armin looked up at him, his eyes blue and shining and brimming with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. Their gaze locked for a few moments before the shorter boy looked down, seeming almost shy.

“I really like you a lot, too,” he murmured, his face flushing even further.

Eren almost questioned his own ears – his heart was thundering so loud through his skull he couldn’t possibly have heard that properly, right? He briefly registered Armin gingerly setting the collage on the table when suddenly he felt a pair of arms wind around his waist. His head cleared at the same time all the breath went out of him. He instinctively embraced the familiar narrow shoulders as Armin leaned heavily into him, face buried against his shoulder. Eren suddenly realized that they’d barely touched all week, and god, he’d never noticed until now how much of a difference that made. Even as they squeezed each other tight enough to almost hurt, he could feel the tension practically melting away from his joints as relief flooded through him. The beat of Armin’s heart was thudding against his chest, matching the pace of his own. He felt himself grinning wildly – when had that happened? He turned his head, buried his smile in soft golden hair. He could _do_ this now, he could _touch_ Armin again without feeling that awful nagging guilt in the back of his mind.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting so weird all week?” Armin asked, his voice muffled by Eren’s shirt.

“Yeah…” He admitted sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I really wanted to do it right, but… I fucked up anyway.”

Soft hair tickled his throat as the shorter boy shook his head a little. “You didn’t. It really means a lot that you went to so much trouble for me. Besides…” he paused for a moment before he continued. “At least you did it. I was too afraid to,” he admitted quietly.

“It wasn’t exactly easy for me either.” Eren let his hand drift up, fingers slipping into warm golden locks. “All sorts of shit kept running through my head. Like, what if I creep him out, what if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore?” He felt Armin nod sympathetically and he continued, lightening his tone. “If that’s what thinking’s like, I don’t know how you can do so much of it.”

“Oh, stop.” Armin said, his lips curving into a smile against the skin exposed by Eren’s shirt collar. Eren’s throat suddenly went dry.

He pulled away hastily even though he immediately missed Armin’s weight. “So, um,” he said quickly, hoping the other boy didn’t notice the slight crack in his voice. “Do you want to try a muffin?”

Armin’s small, knowing smile said that he did notice – of course he did – but he went along with it anyway. “Sure, you said you made them?”

“Yeah!” Eren puffed up his chest. “All by myself.”

“That’s great! So your mom lifted the kitchen ban?”

“Er.” He deflated. “I actually, uh… didn’t tell her.”

Armin laughed as he popped the lid off the plastic container. Eren had never heard a more perfect sound. “Well, I promise I won’t tell her, but please be careful not to burn the house down.” He didn’t bat an eye at the thick white blanket coating the muffins. He offered one to Eren first, but he shook his head and just watched tentatively as Armin took a bite, getting a little smudge of powdered sugar on the tip of his nose. He was so fucking cute.

“Eren, this is really good!” Armin swallowed his mouthful and beamed at him. Eren blinked, trying to stay focused even though his heart felt like an over-inflated balloon.

“Really? They’re kind of dry though,” he said skeptically.

“A bit, yeah, but you’ve improved so much since the last time you tried baking! I bet you’ll get really good at it if you practice more.”

Armin looked so earnest, so genuinely excited, that Eren nearly blurted out another confession way too soon. He managed to contain it by sidling over and wrapping the shorter boy up in his arms again. “You’re literally the best,” he said instead, nuzzling into Armin’s hair and making him giggle. The difference in his demeanor between now and ten minutes ago was incredible, Eren thought. He hoped he could keep Armin smiling like this forever.

“Oh my god, you’re making me get sugar everywhere,” Armin laughed, holding the muffin away from him as powder rained down from it. Eren just grinned and squeezed him tighter, letting his fingertips dig into Armin’s sides in the spots he knew would get a reaction. Sure enough the smaller boy let out a yelp and squirmed in his arms, dumping the muffin unceremoniously on the counter. Eren grunted as a second later cool fingers were shoved in his face, smearing him with powdered sugar.

“That’s not fair,” Armin scolded, trying to sound stern. But the effect was kind of ruined by his breathlessness and his grin.

“Oh, so it’s okay when _you_ take cheap shots, but not me?” Eren teased.

“Exactly.” Blue eyes sparkled mischievously, very close. “You have something on your face, by the way.”

“Gee, I wonder where that came from.”

“No idea. Here, let me help.”

Eren barely had time to register the movement before Armin leaned up and brushed their lips together. His heart stuttered almost to a halt before it picked up faster than ever. Armin was kissing him. _Armin_ was kissing _him._ It took him a second for his head to catch up but when it did he pushed back enthusiastically – maybe a little _too_ enthusiastically, as their lips mashed between their teeth and their noses knocked together. He eased up hastily, would’ve pulled back to apologize but he felt Armin laugh, a tiny snort through his nose as his lips curled against Eren’s. So he relaxed, and Armin angled his head a little, and that… wow, yes, that was good. Eren had never kissed anyone like this before but he followed the pace Armin set, and it just felt so _natural_ it was easy to fall into a chaste, comfortable rhythm. Armin’s lips were warm and soft, and still sweet with the lingering flavor of powdered sugar, but Eren could taste the remnants of chapstick beneath. The way they felt as they tugged gently at his own was beyond anything he could’ve imagined, and he felt dizzy as blood rushed to his head… as well as elsewhere. But he refused to let himself think about that right now.

They pulled apart too soon (though even never would be too soon for Eren), but they stayed close enough for their noses to touch. The air was cool on their damp lips.

Eren took a slightly shaky breath, swallowing hard before he trusted himself to speak. “So… Are you really too busy with readings and shit to hang out?” He asked, murmuring into the small space between them.

Armin bit at his lip and glanced away. “I… lied about that. Sorry,” he admitted guiltily, as if Eren hadn’t known that from the start. “I only have one reading and it’s not due ‘til next Friday.”

“What about helping your grandpa?”

“I just have to help him with dinner.” His eyes flicked back up to Eren’s. “You could probably join us. If you want.”

“So does that mean you’re not kicking me out after all?”

“Hmm.” Armin pretended to consider this for a moment. “Well, you _did_ bring me flowers, and my favorite kind of muffins, and a beautiful collage. What kind of host would I be to throw you onto the streets after that?” He grinned.

Eren grinned right back. “I’m glad to know I’ve bought my way into your heart.”

“Besides,” Armin continued, a sly note creeping into his matter-of-fact voice. “I can’t send you out looking like that. You still have sugar all over your face.”

As it turned out, Eren was more than okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! I hope it was worth the wait. Thank you so, so much to everybody who left kudos and feedback on this fic! It really means a lot to me. I wasn't expecting this silly thing to get so much attention but I'm so happy I managed to make some people smile! Thanks so much for joining me on this doofy ride!
> 
> (Actually, I also have an idea for a short bonus chapter for this. Would you guys potentially be interested in that?)


	6. Bonus: A Sunday, Some Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren has a bad day, made worse when something he'd rather forget resurfaces.

Sundays had always been kind of iffy with Eren – it was nice to have a day off, but it was kind of spoiled by the shadow of school looming larger and larger as the hours ticked by. It meant he couldn’t just throw responsibility to the wind and enjoy himself anymore. It meant he had to suck it up and finally do all the homework he’d put off. It meant no sleepovers with Armin – that was the real travesty. Eren’s mom still didn’t allow sleepovers on school nights because she said they distracted each other too much to go to sleep on time. But as much as he grumbled about it, he couldn’t really deny it. It had been true when they were five, and it was especially true now.

And today, today had been a particularly bad Sunday. He’d fallen flat on his face the moment he got out of bed, thanks to some clothes and random junk he’d tossed onto the floor the previous night. Sore and aggravated, he’d stomped downstairs for breakfast, only to bump his elbow on the way to the table and send his cereal bowl flying halfway across the kitchen, milk and all. Considering the awful start to the day, in hindsight he realized he should’ve known to cancel his afternoon plans with Jean. But of course, he hadn’t. And of course, it had turned out about as well as he should have expected. The two of them rarely had any real fights anymore, but when they did, it was still just as prone to getting physical as it used to be. As he skulked his way through the park to cool off before heading home, knuckles scraped and ribs throbbing, even the season decided he hadn’t had enough. In the perfect bookend to his misery, he’d slipped on a sneaky patch of ice on the path and plummeted face-first into snow that wasn’t quite deep enough to cushion his fall, but was more than enough to get him soaked.

But when he’d stomped back into the house, numb and shivering, it was like sunbeams pierced through the dark, heavy storm clouds that had been camping over Eren’s head all day. Because there was Armin, in a cozy green turtleneck, curled up on the couch and chatting cheerfully with Mikasa. Even just the sight of him looking so warm and comfortable – hell, even just the _concept_ of coming home to Armin – had Eren’s bedraggled heart swelling in his chest. It got even better when Armin got up to greet him, concern painting over his face when he saw the state Eren was in, pressing his frigid fingers between his warm palms as Mikasa grilled him on what had happened and scolded him to go change into dry clothes right now before you get hypothermia. But Eren’s flicker of irritation at her mothering paled in comparison to the pure _relief_ he felt at Armin’s mere presence. The stress rolled off him in waves and his eyes stung as he resisted the urge to just collapse against the other boy right then and there – but he knew how easily cold Armin got, and plus he didn’t want to get weepy in front of his sister.

Now, though, after dinner in the privacy of Eren’s room, there was no need to hold back. With the door shut and everyone else downstairs, they had plenty of space for snuggles and smooches. It was almost perfect – just him and Armin…

…and homework.

Honestly, fuck homework. Eren scowled down at his worksheet as if he could scare it into filling itself out. But the blank spaces just sat there, looking so damn smug about being the last thing keeping him from snuggles and smooches. It was possibly the worst third wheel in existence – at least you could tell a person to go fuck off. Homework, though, would just hang around and then bite you in the ass when the teacher gave you detention for not handing it in. And he was relegated to the desk until he finished, since Armin insisted he would focus better at an actual workspace. Eren glanced over at him, curled up comfortably at the foot of the bed with a book. Eren so badly wanted to be over there with him. But he grit his teeth and forced himself to turn back to his worksheet. If he could just get this last thing done, they’d have a whole couple of hours to themselves before Armin had to go home.

Maybe it was because his nerves were all frayed from the stress of the day, but Eren was having way more trouble than usual. He wasn’t even that _bad_ at Spanish, but for some reason the worksheet just wasn’t making sense to him. He stared at the instructions. He flipped through his textbook. He glared daggers at the blank spaces, his hands fisted into his hair. Frustration wound tighter and tighter inside him.

He must’ve made some kind of noise, because he heard Armin shift and ask, “Everything okay over there?”

He let a long breath out through his nose before he answered. “Yeah, just. Spanish trouble.”

“Oh.” He could hear the sympathetic frown in Armin’s voice. “Sorry. I would help if I could, but…” But he was taking Japanese.

Eren shook his head. “No, it’s okay.”

“There’s nothing in your textbook?”

“Not that I can find.”

“That’s weird.” There was the sound of more shifting and he looked over to see Armin crawling closer, leaning over onto the back of his chair to peer at the worksheet with furrowed brows. “That doesn’t seem right, you shouldn’t be getting homework you’re not equipped for.”

The words triggered something in Eren’s memory. “Oh! Now that you mention it, I think we actually got a handout with like, a new conjugation or whatever on it.” He hastily tugged his Spanish folder closer, his mood taking an instant upswing with this new hope. But hope petered into confusion, and then into panic as he rifled through the folder.

It wasn’t there.

“What the fuck,” Eren spat in dismay, unceremoniously yanking through papers that he knew were too far back to be what he wanted. Old worksheets, notes and doodles passed between him and Jean, a rather large number of handouts from other classes and miscellaneous school notices haphazardly mixed in… but not the conjugation sheet. He really should try to be more organized. He felt his heart rate rising in distress.

“Did you put it in another folder?” Armin suggested. His hand brushed Eren’s shoulder, gentle and steadying. Eren took a deep breath to derail the track to a meltdown, and reached down into his backpack to pull out the messy stack of his other folders.

But it wasn’t in any of them. He let the last one plunk sloppily onto the discard pile and shoved himself out of his chair, casting around his cluttered room for anywhere he might possibly have left it. Armin had slid onto the floor beside the backpack and was pulling out the various crumpled papers buried in its depths.

The handout wasn’t anywhere on, in, around, or behind the desk. It wasn’t in any of his pants pockets from the week. Desperation was gnawing at the corners of his mind despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. He was just beginning to scour the small bookshelf piled with many things that were not books, when behind him Armin went, “Ah—”

Eren turned quickly, his heart sinking when he saw that Armin was holding just another rumpled piece of torn notebook paper. But his disappointment turned to confusion when he noticed Armin’s raised eyebrows and parted lips.

“What?” Eren asked suspiciously.

“Um.” Armin glanced over at him, but his wide eyes darted quickly away again almost shyly. He clamped his lips between his teeth and brought the back of his free hand up to cover his mouth – but the smile he was trying to fight crept all the way to his eyes. “Was this… supposed to be for me?” He held the paper out to show him.

Eren squinted across the room. At first glance it looked like just another discarded note, one edge ragged from being carelessly ripped out. His own handwriting scrawled messily across the page, interspersed with a few violent scribbles. He racked his memory, trying to make sense of Armin’s question.

Then it clicked.

Oh. Oh, no.

_The love poem._

It was the final nail in the coffin, the world’s final “Fuck you” to Eren’s poor, battered existence. It wasn’t enough that he’d been suffering all day, no. He wasn’t even allowed to have a little bit of peace with his own boyfriend, no, of course not. What was that literary device called, again – Marley’s Law? The one about everything going to shit if given half the chance? Well, he’d given it the chance by not properly shredding that stupid failure of a poem months ago, and now of course the universe had seen fit to deliver it right into Armin’s hands. Eren was a good kid, he (almost) never got into fights anymore, and he ate (most of) his vegetables. What had he ever done to deserve this?

Eren wanted more than anything to sink into the floor.

He tried, but he just ended up sprawled out with his face buried in the plush carpet, the fibers tickling his nose. He didn’t even have it in him to be upset anymore. The day had finally succeeded in breaking his spirit. He hoped it was happy now. He was probably about to melt a hole in the floor with how hot his face was burning. Maybe he’d be able to escape through that.

“Eren.”

The voice was soothing, though not without amusement. Eren just groaned into the carpet, bemoaning his cursed existence. A set of soft fingers stroked through his hair. That… okay, that was nice. Maybe there was still hope for the world.

“Eren, there’s nothing to be so embarrassed about.”

He disagreed vehemently and expressed this with a snort. Unfortunately, it jostled the carpet fibers and now he needed to sneeze. But he clenched his teeth, refusing to let himself suffer any more indignities.

“Will you sit up for me?” Armin asked. Damn, it was hard to resist when he asked like that, his tone a mixture of coaxing and hopeful. But Eren held his ground and lay still. He could never face Armin again. He was really gonna miss those beautiful blue eyes. He heard a sigh and the fingers disappeared from his hair. “Come on,” Armin said, tugging at his arms.

Eren allowed his limp body to be hauled upright. Armin huffed as he propped the larger boy in a sitting position against the bedframe.

“God, you are so dramatic,” he said. Eren finally caved in, and looked up sulkily. Armin sat beside him, watching him with a raised eyebrow and a fond smile that broke his show of exasperation. The poem was still clasped carefully in his hand. “I guess I can take that as a yes. You gonna be okay?”

“No,” Eren pouted. He tried to snatch the paper, but Armin anticipated his movement and held it out of reach. “Oh, come on! Give it back!”

“But I like it,” Armin grinned. At that, Eren stopped trying to reach across him and stared at him incredulously.

“But it’s so _bad._ ”

“It’s not!” Armin tried to insist. Eren glared him down. “Okay, well maybe it’s not exactly a literary masterpiece,” he admitted sheepishly. “But Eren, it’s so… _cute._ ”

Eren pushed off of him and scowled, the words stinging. “Yeah, sure, look at little Eren, writing like a five-year-old. So fucking cute.” The heat in his face was beginning to prick behind his eyes again. Of course Armin would see it like that, Armin who was in advanced English courses, who could identify at a glance all the fancy poetic structures and techniques that Eren had to work to even differentiate. He wished he’d never written the damn thing.

“No, Eren, that’s not what I meant,” Armin was saying, his voice soft and apologetic as his hand curled around Eren’s arm. “I know you don’t even like poetry. So I think it’s really sweet that you felt inspired enough to write this on your own.” Eren felt a warm weight lean into his side, and a chin settled on his shoulder. There was a short pause. “It makes me really happy that _I_ inspired you enough to write it on your own.”

Eren glanced back over. Armin gazed up at him from his shoulder, something gentle and adoring and almost mystified in his eyes. He felt his joints unclenching despite himself – he was so weak against that face, against that sincerity. He sighed, and let himself sink against Armin’s weight. The shorter boy gladly took the opportunity to wrap his arms more fully around Eren.

“You’re so passionate,” Armin murmured by his ear. “You just… throw yourself so wholeheartedly into everything you care about. I love that about you, you know? And I…” Eren felt his throat bob as he swallowed. “I’m so lucky to… I mean, I can’t even believe that I qualify as one of those things. So I promise I’m not laughing at you. I’m just really touched to see you express yourself like that.”

“No, I believe you,” Eren murmured back guiltily. “Sorry for freaking out. It’s just that you’re so smart, and so good at that stuff, and it seems really stupid compared to… compared to you.”

Armin shook his head. “It’s not, and _you’re_ not. I wish you would give yourself a little more credit.”

“You’re one to talk.”

They shared a look and smiled sheepishly at each other, the mood lightening.

“So, is it okay if I keep this?” Armin asked, holding up the poem.

“I guess so, if you really want it.” Eren gave a brief chuckle. “Just keep it somewhere that I never have to look at it again.”

“Deal.” With a small smile, the shorter boy leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. As he braced his weight against the floor, something crinkled under his hand and he looked around. “Oh… Eren, is this the handout you were looking for?” He produced a rumpled sheet of paper from where it lay halfway under the bed. Sure enough, Eren recognized the neat rows of printed conjugations interspersed with his own messy scrawl as exactly what he’d been looking for.

“Oh, thank god.” He grabbed the paper with a surge of relief, then sagged as he remembered the worksheet that was still blank and waiting on his desk. His already low amount of focus seemed to have plummeted even further, and being on the floor with his boyfriend close beside him really didn’t help that matter. He felt himself beginning to sink back into despair when the paper was gently plucked from his hands, and he looked around in confusion.

“You’ve had a hectic day,” Armin said, stretching up to slip the handout onto the desk. “Why don’t you take it easy for the rest of the night?”

Eren blinked. He certainly wasn’t going to object, but it was rare for Armin to openly condone slacking off. “Really? You’re not gonna bug me to finish my work?”

“It won’t do your schoolwork any favors to strain yourself too much anyway,” he reasoned. “Besides, you have study hall in the morning tomorrow, don’t you? You can finish it then after a good night’s rest.”

Oh, right – he’d practically forgotten about that. Eren felt like a huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. “Are you sure you don’t have some kind of ulterior motive?” He teased, happily looping his arms around the smaller boy’s middle. Armin smirked back up at him.

“I just don’t like to see you so stressed out, that’s all.”

“Well, this is a pretty good start, but I still feel kind of tense. Think you can help me out with that?”

“Hm, there might be something I can do.”

They were leaning close now, the tips of their noses brushing. Armin wore a mischievous little smile, and his eyes were glimmering fondly. Eren grinned, the worries of the day forgotten. It looked like he was getting his snuggles and smooches after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Eyyyyy look it's a bonus chapter. One of my favorite parts of this fic was Eren's terrible love poem and I just couldn't leave it alone. So... here you go. Eren is really melodramatic in this extra but hey, he's an angsty, overly-self-conscious teen who had a really stressful day.
> 
> Thanks again to everybody who read and commented! You're all super sweet and this bonus chapter probably wouldn't exist without you! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*
> 
> Also. Somebody suggested I write a smut chapter for this fic. I know the original prompt was supposed to be SFW... but... well, it would be nice to round out the week...


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